When You Kissed Me
by shoutintotheoblivion
Summary: A collection of short somethings about Lily kissing James and James kissing Lily and Lily realizing she likes it... but not being able to admit it to herself.
1. Stolen Cigarette

The first time I kissed him we were both drunk.

It was the first victory of the Gryffindor quidditch team that year, and there was a party in the common room. As always, there was alcohol. I don't even know when I took my first shot of firewhiskey that night, or how many shots I took after the first one. All I can remember is the familiar songs playing in the background as I danced with… was it Marlene? I'm not sure. And then hands were dragging me away. Dancing with an unfamiliar fifth year Gryffindor, and then I was pulled in the other direction and I could have sworn this bloke had already finished Hogwarts, I must have been wrong. Then I was whisked away in yet another direction and Sirius' hands were on my hips as he smirked at me, a cigarette between his lips. I stole it, the cigarette and grabbed his glass, downing the rest of the firewhiskey he had in it.

Then I was out on the hallway, a cigarette in my hand and I was moving towards somewhere; anywhere where I could be alone. I wished I had taken one more cigarette from Sirius, but the one I had would have to suffice. And there was an open classroom and it was empty—everything I could wish for at the moment. The floor was cold, but I sat down anyway, taking a drag from the lit white stick. I only had a couple of them left and didn't want them to be wasted. The door burst open as someone interrupted my blissful silence and my head twisted towards them, the world spun again. He stumbled in in all of his drunk glory, bracing himself against the desk as his eyes scanned the room, landing on me. Staggering, he made his way over and sat down, his head leaning against the wall. Unapologetically he stole the stolen cigarette from my hand and brought it to his lips. I wanted to protest but the way he slowly exhaled the smoke rendered me speechless. A chuckle escaped his lips as he turned to face me.

I hadn't realized just how close he was, but by the time I did his nose was barely touching mine and his breath was falling on my lips. Then our breaths were mixing together and I could taste the alcohol and cigarette smoke on his. He could probably taste the same on mine. And I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him for as long as I could, my mind numb. It didn't matter that he was an arrogant idiot, with whom I rowed a lot. I just wanted his lips against mine. He noticed me noticing him and his face turned serious. I reached up, my hand finding a way to the back of his neck and tangling in his unruly hair. And I was pulling him in. Or was he pulling me in? I'm not sure.

His lips were on mine and his fingers threaded through my hair as his arm pulled me closer by waist. Lips were parted and hand wandered and I'm not quite sure what I was thinking or what we were doing, but I was kissing James Potter and it felt better than anything else. It didn't end after a minute, or even after ten minutes. He kept kissing me and I kept kissing back and I don't even know who would have broken away first, or if we would have stopped if Sirius hadn't burst into the classroom.

We never spoke of it.


	2. In The Dark

We didn't talk about the kiss.

We didn't kiss again.

We didn't talk at all.

I haven't spoken to him in over a month and New Year's Eve was approaching. A part of me was aware of the terrifying fact that we'd both be attending the same party. A part of me was terrified, yet another part was impatient for the 31st of December to finally arrive. There was a distant memory of somebody's lips on my own that I've wanted to relive just as much as I wanted to erase it. I never told anyone about the kiss. Only Sirius knew and even he didn't mention it. He didn't mention it at all and I worried that maybe all of the attention that James has ever directed wasn't much more than mere teasing.

I've missed the teasing. And I've missed the tension.

It seemed that he didn't miss it at all. But what do I know, right? Men are complicated.

He was at the same party, in the same room and my eyes were memorizing every minute detail about him. His hair was as messy as ever and he was holding an empty glass, laughing. I wasn't sure how long I had my eyes glued to him, but it must have been a while. He didn't look towards me, not once. And maybe I was a fool for feeling like this (how was I feeling?), like he was supposed to look at me, which he wasn't... I guess.  
My eyes suddenly met Sirius', who raised an eyebrow and smirked. It was much too late to reprimand myself as the blush crept upon my cheeks. But this wasn't who I was, I couldn't spend my evening waiting for him to notice me (or approach me, or talk to me - because, frankly, I was a bit confused), and with a sinking feeling of disappointment (and a bit irritated) I joined my friends, but only after taking a shot of firewhiskey. It burned nicely and took away the tension I had been feeling.

Midnight found me tipsy in the arms of Zachary. Zachary was a Ravenclaw and he had been really nice to me this whole evening, bringing me drinks and dancing with me. Paying attention to me. In fact, he hadn't paid attention to anyone else this whole evening. And I was standing there as magically magnified voice of none other than Sirius Black announced that we had one more minute of 1976 left. I couldn't have cared less, but Zachary seemed to care as he leaned in closer. I would have kissed him, I would, but somebody ran into him and then he fell on the floor and I almost fell down as well. Maybe I was more than just tipsy, because the world was spinning and I couldn't stand properly on my own. There was a commotion and I stepped away from the crowd, climbing the stairs. For a few seconds I thought I was alone but then I could feel his presence; and I knew it was him because it smelt like cigarettes, alcohol, and peppermint.

I'm not sure what I was thinking when I followed him into an empty room. Then again, I doubt I was thinking at all.

And then I was pushing him against the door. Sirius' magically magnified voice could barely reach the room, but I still heard him counting down the seconds. Maybe he was counting down the seconds we had up here. What if I had half a minute left to do everything I've wanted to do for the past month? All worries vanished as his hands moved from my hips, sliding up my shirt, tracing patterns on bare skin. And I wanted him to know that I wanted to keep doing this, but I didn't want to say it. Stupid pride and stupid boys. I wasn't sure how to, either. Hands wandered; exploring without a second thought.

I never gave it a second thought.

_I want you?_

_I love the way you smell like peppermint?_

_What do I say?_

The next morning I woke up with a distinct taste of peppermint in my mouth.


	3. I Have To Go

Hogwarts was once again populated as everyone returned from winter holidays and I was grateful for it. It made hiding through hallways a much easier task and avoiding James Potter didn't seem as difficult as it used to be. I should know, I became an expert in it. He was tall and I could spot him much sooner than he would spot me (even with my red hair flowing everywhere), which gave me a fair advantage and I made sure he never even noticed me. That happened only when I was foolish enough to even choose the hallway I knew he would use. Maybe I enjoyed the minute torture it brought me. Gryffindor common room was a different level in my game and I had to be extra careful and observant in order to avoid him. I once ran into Sirius while escaping to my dormitory.

I knew that he knew I was avoiding him, but I had no idea what he thought of it. The lack of reaction from his side seemed encouraging enough for the hiding to continue and it successfully discouraged me in any planned attempts at trying to re-live any of the previous kisses. However I couldn't stop searching for him. My eyes had an annoying tendency to focus on the back of the classroom to check if he had arrived for the class, and if he didn't disappointment would settle in, right next to relief. It was a double edged sword, and I kept it by my side at all times. Sometimes I really, truly hated boys... and by boys I mean James, more or less.

So what if I really liked kissing him, I would have liked kissing any decent looking bloke (and I say that without any intent of sounding like a slag). Perhaps I was insane, thinking that any healthy relationship can come out of drunken kisses in hidden corners. I was delusional and the Lily from last year would have smacked this one. She would have smacked her hard, but she couldn't because the old Lily was replaced by the pathetic version who didn't understand what was going on. I was going mental.

It had been a perfectly ordinary and awfully cold January day when I ended up back in his arms. There was no alcohol involved and no cigarette smell lingering. In fact, I don't think he even tasted like peppermints at all, a slight disappointment on my side, I must admit. I had been thinking of the fastest way of getting from the Library to the Gryffindor tower when he appeared out of the blue matching his pace to mine. It must have been childish, pretending that I didn't see him, but I couldn't bring myself to properly look at him. Not when it would make me lose all common sense. He didn't say a thing either, just walked.

The empty room was so conveniently placed halfway to Gryffindor tower and I happened to conveniently stumble into the door that happened to be unlocked and he seemed to follow so easily. I invited and he followed, and for a few curious seconds I wondered who the fool among us was (my bets are it's both of us?). All thoughts vanished when he cupped my face pulling me closer and then I was kissing him again, hands gripping his sweater and tightening around his loose tie. He didn't shave for a day or two, and, although you couldn't see it on his face, there was a distinct roughness I could feel as I ran my fingers along his jaw. His lips left mine in favour of my neck and I should have probably stopped then and there. But I didn't because I couldn't. And I didn't want. Why would I want to stop? Why would I want to let his hands drop from my waist and leave him on his own? Why would I ever want to stop kissing James Potter? Who on Earth would wish that, honestly? And perhaps I was too lost in my thoughts to register shirts being unbuttoned and, maybe, I didn't really care enough to notice.

He leaned his forhead against mine, ragged breaths coming from his parted lips and I wanted to say it.

_Hey, I like you. _

All that came out was a quick "I have to go."

I guess we all have to fail at something.


	4. Tactless

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything, obviously._

* * *

Due to recent events I was, once again, not talking to _him_.

Not talking. Not speaking. Not looking. Not noticing. Not observing. _Not thinking._

Or at least I was trying really hard not to. It was impossible, to say the least. It's impossible not to notice someone when they're the loudest person in the whole common room and it's quite hard to actually ignore someone who repetitively talks to you. It should be called attempted talking because I really wasn't contributing to the conversation. My method was more of an _'ignore and flee the scene'_. The dormitory used to be a good hiding spot up until Mary started questioning me about my increased intolerance of one James Potter. I couldn't very well tell her that we've been snogging each other from time to time. My problem was that I couldn't even say it out loud when I was alone, so admitting it to someone else was a no go. Simple as that.

And I would be very rational and not think about him, even though ignoring problems has never actually helped anyone.

I was determined to be the exception.

Maybe I can truly be the exception.

Only March 27th would not let me be one.

March 27th was a special day in a life of a Gryffindor. It was a special day because it was James Potter's birthday. And because it was James Potter's birthday there was always a big, loud party. The common room events reminded me of that November night when everything started and it was really hard to ignore the similarities between the two nights. The firewhiskey shots that tasted nice, even when they burned, or drinking butterbeer to soother the burning afterwards. Or Sirius Black shamelessly flirting with me—like he did with all the girls; his means of communication I presume—and offering me more to drink. It's always more and more; he's not getting me drunk, I'm getting myself drunk. If I didn't want that next shot of firewhiskey all I'd have to say was no, but I wanted it.

In life you find out that things you want don't really matter. For instance, I really wanted to be a bit taller, and maybe have more defined curves. I couldn't get that (because, let's face it, life was just a bitch). Well, I could learn how to use really complex permanent transfiguration spells, but that would take ages and it wouldn't really feel the same as simply being born with curves. So, yes, you can't always get what you want and life has a way of letting you know. Only sometimes life is tactless and you hate it for being that way. It's not your friend, it's more of a really harsh companion that tells you _'okay, this and that happened, but see that can never be so you really have to find another occupation… or another hobby'_…

The moment of realization, as I like to call those, hit me when my drunk self looked around the Gryffindor common room at all the other drunk people. The cigarette that had been between my lips almost fell to the floor as I caught sight of the ugly truth called… well, I think I feel free enough to call it reality. Sirius, who had been standing next to me followed my gaze and that same reality hit him as well.

"Lily," he started. But I wasn't quite listening because I was too focused on him.

_Him._

And I was _not_ paying attention.

I was not thinking about _him_.

And even if I was, there was absolutely no reason for the disappointment that settled in. Really, there was no reason why I was supposed to feel entitled to him. Not when I was ignoring him. So, why was it exactly that I really didn't like him snogging someone else.

_… Even if I did ignore him for an extended period of time?_

* * *

He stopped kissing her and his eyes met mine and there was something apologetic about the way he looked. But then I turned and pulled his best friend towards me. Snogging Sirius Black might have been the rock bottom of my existence at that point. Not because I was snogging Sirius Black, but because the sole reason why I was doing it was to spite James. It was to prove something to him. Or to me. Or to everyone, Sirius included. I really had no idea why I was snogging Sirius Black, but I was positive it wasn't because I fancied him.

* * *

…

Or maybe that's what I thought of doing for a split second before turning away and climbing the stairs to my dormitory while trying to fake calmness. I wasn't calm.

James Potter _snogged_ Melanie Greengrass. So, what?

_I don't need him._

_I don't want him._

_I don't like him._

Lie down in your bed and repeat the mantra again.

_You don't need him._

_You don't want him._

_You don't like him._

And then you fall asleep and dream of him because life is not your friends and it, in fact, enjoys the slow torture_._

* * *

_**A/N:** _So, I feel like this one has a different tone to it than the others, but that's because they really just come from momentary bursts of idea and inspiration or whatever. And they're not supposed to be connected through anything more than the idea of the two kissing. And you're really not supposed to know anything besides what Lily is thinking. And that's about it for this part of author's note.

However I would love to thank people for reviewing so...

babydollandgiantfreak THANK you! I will continue and I can only hope that it stays interestin/good/I don't know.  
rosesarered I really do hope I will never stop (although I might have to one day, oh well I'll cross that bridge when I come to it)  
JustTrippin thank you for your reviews, :D  
KiraShae thank you for being the first reviewer  
aaand Guest (?) well thanks for reviewing

Love, Maja


	5. Because of March 27th

**Disclaimer:**I literally own nothing, except the laptop I wrote this on.

* * *

"_Because of March 27__th__."_

That sounded like a perfect excuse for everything I've been doing lately. If I were honest, it actually _was_ the perfect excuse. There's something really… humiliating, in a way, in seeing a bloke you snogged—secretly, but snogged nevertheless—snog another girl in front of the whole common room. It gets to an even lower point when the said event is also seen by the bloke's best friend, who is—by chance—the only person who actually knew you two snogged. The thing that has the potential to make the situation even worse is, perhaps, the thought that the bloke—the one you snogged, not his best friend—might have liked you before. Might have liked you even a month ago, after you snogged; just maybe. If you think about that long and hard enough, and then think about liking him, it all becomes a pile of disappointment and embarrassment, which settles deep in your stomach. Quite frustrating, I must tell you.

That's why you sit in the very front of the class now, rather than sitting one row in front of _him_.

That's why you switch places with your best friend at the Gryffindor table, so that you wouldn't be forced to look at _him_.

It's also a very plausible reason why you choose to study in the Library or venture up to your dormitory, instead of sticking around the common room (where he usually resides, sitting in front of the fireplace in the comfy armchair to the left—you also avoid sitting in the said armchair at any given time).

Love will drive you insane, people say. Of course, I'm not in love. It's ridiculous to even think it. But I _am_ in like? As much as I love to deny it; there will be a time during the long studying hours, when I am forced to reflect on everything that has been going on in order to avoid actual studying, when I will admit to myself that the reason why I was—and still am—quite bitter about March 27th and a certain someone was because, to put it bluntly, I liked him. I liked him in a strange, twisted way. I liked him, but I also really wanted to slap him. Nothing would please me more than to snap at him for something—_anything_, really—and just throw a variety of insults his way. It is quite safe to say that that would be the only contact—besides snogging—I would have had with him in a while.

The moment when I admit to liking James Potter is also the moment when I return to studying and attempt to erase the thought from my mind. It doesn't work that way, though.

It's _always_ stuck there, the thought of him and kissing him.

Hanging somewhere in the back, tucked away in a metaphorical drawer of my mind. I like to think that it's stored in a particularly ugly cupboard and maybe, just maybe—oh, _please_ let this happen—one day the drawer would get stuck and I'd never be able to open it again. I could always obliviate myself, even though it would probably be a failure and I would end up seriously hurting myself.

Do you know that feeling you get when someone is staring at you? The tingly one, climbing up your spine until it burns holes in the back of your head. _That feeling_. He needed to stop doing that. He _had_ to stop staring at me in all of the classes we shared. It was getting beyond annoying. And for that particular reason—being utterly annoyed—I mustered up the courage to turn towards the back of the class, in _his_ direction, and stare pointedly at Sirius Black who, in return, smirked back, eyeing me knowingly. Or at least he thought it was knowingly because he assumed he knew something, which he didn't of course. Whatever he was thinking was absolutely false and one hundred percent, definitely, not correct.

Ripping a small piece of parchment I scribbled down a note (_'stop staring, Black'_), and it came back after a few seconds with a response (_'making you blush, Evans?'_). I wrote back—something along the lines of _'how could you ever make me blush?'_—to which he shamelessly replied with an arrow that was, I'm sure, supposed to be pointing at James.

I hate Sirius Black.

I hate him almost as much as I can't stand his best friend.

I hate him as much as I want to kiss his best friend.

I hate him so much that I could just go and snog his best friend to spite him.

Oh, wait, I've done that. And then I was a daft little girl who ruined any chance she ever had with the mentioned best friend by completely ignoring him afterwards. Surprisingly I was given a second chance (and a third chance, too). Unsurprisingly I ruined both.

Glancing back towards Sirius—who was still smirking—I caught _James' _eye. And blushed.

'_blushing, are we, Evans?'_

Have I told you how much I _hate_ Sirius Black? Because I really, truly do.

_The git._

* * *

**A/N: **_So, here it is. I do hope you like it. I'm not sure where it's supposed to be headed (well, I do know where, but not sure how) as I might have mentioned before. The thing is that this should really just reflect Lily's thoughts on everything and I'm enjoying writing these. (even if I'm not happy with the way it turns out sometimes)…Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed. __**Kira Shae**__ Rude awakenings are the best. And they also suck, so things might suck for a chapter or two (since this is supposed to be a short story). __**Bertiebottsgeorge**__ thank you for the review! __**Rabbit**__ thank you! I'm glad you think so (I'm trying to make it all plausible, in a way, so it's nice to know I'm succeeding somewhat). _

_Love, Maja_

_P.S. Merry Christmas everyone (who celebrates it and all)._


	6. A Snog A Date

_A date_. Very simple word; an extremely obvious meaning yet it's quite unclear when you write it on its own… a date.

The important fact was that I, Lily Evans, had it—a date. I had a date who would take me to Hogsmeade, probably to Puddifoot's, and he'd buy me a drink or two. We'd talk and I would most likely blush at one point. Then, when the day came to an end, we would walk back to the castle and maybe… just maybe he would hold my hand. And this date of mine wouldn't go to his common room right away, he would walk me to the seventh floor and watch me walk away.

Or maybe I would kiss him before walking away and he would be in a daze, his mind fuzzy as he walked back down the stairs and to his own tower.

A date. Such a wonderful, _simple_ word.

Yet, I was not nearly as happy as I thought I would be. Not as happy as I should have been. In fact I don't think I was even close to being excited about the whole ordeal.

* * *

It happened a week ago. It wasn't monumental and it wasn't anything special at the time but James Potter acknowledged my existence… and I didn't reply with an insult so I had assumed that it was an off day. And I was more or less right, it was an off day. A completely and horribly off day that, looking back on it now, had made no sense whatsoever then, and it still makes no sense now. There was something very odd with the dynamic between James and me, and I should have known. I really should have but when you're young and stupid you don't know. That's why I was oblivious. Even now I'm not entirely positive what it was about that day that made us both act differently. It must have been the full moon approaching, but I can't be certain.

There I was walking down the Charms corridor actively thinking about the paragraph we were assigned to read and silently repeating the new information over and over again when I ran into a solid body. For a moment I was about to apologize but my eyes landed on Potter's brown ones—in a very non-cliché way—and the words of an apology halted in my throat a feeling of a large lump in my throat settling in. Just as I swallowed all of my doubts down his raised eyebrows lowered and he crouched picking up the books I had dropped.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there."

I stared at him before remembering that the parchments splayed on the floor were mine and lowered myself to help him out, "It's fine. I wasn't looking."

"No, I really am sorry."

"It's okay," I sighed.

He collected the last text book and stood up. I followed a second later and then we stood there staring for what I deemed much too long, "I'm sorry."

"You already apologized."

Disregarding my last response despite nodding in agreement he continued, "Listen I really am… sorry."

Then I was stumbling after him as he kept his hold on my wrist firm but loose enough not to hurt.

After almost tripping while trying to keep up with him I was pulled into an empty classroom and the door was locked. Soon enough everything we had picked up from the corridor floor ended up falling back down... and then he kissed me,which I should have expected, backing me up against the wall. It was the same as before: peppermint. And I really liked it. I had almost forgotten how much I loved the taste. And how much I enjoyed touching him. The only uncertainty I had was whether I liked touching him more or did I prefer him touching me... My question was almost answered when I felt the warm skin under my fingers and realized how perfectly fantastic it was kissing him, allowing my lips to part from his and journey to the pulse point where they paused for a while. It was magnificent and I really, _really_, _really_ liked that. But then he had to go and trail his hands lower and lower until they were resting on the small of my back, his cold hands contrasting my warm skin and I shivered. For a split second I wondered what exactly I was doing, but it was all too much fun to stop. It felt too good to stop. It wasn't all that important that a few of the buttons ended up on the floor. Not when his lips were so freely travelling over my neck, to my collarbone, continuing his way down, lower and lower.

How could I have cared about the buttons when I could feel his breath falling just above that line where my naked skin met the skirt I wore (and why was I still dressed?). Or when the breaths ceased making my insides flutter when they were replaced with his lips and I couldn't stop myself from moaning. Nor could I stop from blushing when he chuckled and slowly came face to face with me once again, placing his hands on both sides of my face and resting his forehead against mine.

It was over too soon for my liking, but once the hormones settled and I was sitting in the class my buttons in place and my hair in a ponytail all sorts of doubt and bad ideas crept upon me. I had sworn that there was nothing more to be said between us, despite Sirius Black's constant teasing notes and remarks. Well, I have partially successfully convinced myself that I couldn't care less that he was off snogging other girls.

Charms were a blur; I forgot everything we were supposed to learn from that assigned reading and embarrassed myself in front of the class. Potter—James, whatever—did not show up and I spent most of the class analyzing the events which, I concluded, was a completely irrational thing to do because we weren't even friends and… so what if we had snogged a few times in the past and took a trip back in time not an hour ago. I'm sure many people did that and it probably didn't cause them as much problems.

He had no right to do that. He really didn't. I didn't want him to do that and why did he even think of doing that when we had barely spoken lately, let alone snogged. The nerve he had. And once all of my analyzing and rationalizing had gone by I realized that I was angry. Angry at myself for allowing this to happen and for being such a fool, or at him for being a complete arse and doing this to me again... I wasn't sure. But I was mad and nothing else was important.

It really didn't matter if I actually liked his messy hair even though I told everyone it annoyed me. And the fact that I thought he was extremely handsome even though he was too thin for his height—he looked good nonetheless. And it really didn't matter that I loved hearing him talk in class and that his smile was really beautiful and that I spent ages thinking of him despite swearing and promising to myself that my brain would never approach the subject.

It really did not matter at all that he still smelled like peppermint and cigarettes when he walked by me in classes after lunch.

It didn't matter that I was completely infatuated just because we had kissed a few times.

It's not that I loved him or anything.

Right? Right.

Besides, I was completely over it.

That's right I was over James Potter and whatever infatuation I had.

And it was for that simple matter that I accepted an invitation to Hogsmeade from a certain Ravenclaw.

* * *

I _am_ over James Potter.

How many lies are you allowed to tell before you are labeled as a pathological liar? One more? Two? I am really excited for that date?

* * *

_**A/N:** Long time no post/update? So, I hope this is okay. And thank you for the lovely reviews. I don't know if anyone here checked out anything else I'v posted but I had this multi-chapter thing going on which I posted twice and took down twice because I keep on realizing that I want to change things and such. So, if there is anyone who might have come across it, I apologize._

_Anyway, I hope school is not bothering everyone too much._

_Also, it snowed so much here it's insane!_

_Love._


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